


As Old as Time

by Destiny_in_the_Universe



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Sexual Assault, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, M/M, Mild Blood, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Slow Romance, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-07 20:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_in_the_Universe/pseuds/Destiny_in_the_Universe
Summary: Mycroft has always known he was different, but when a change of fate leads him to a supposedly haunted manor and an encounter with a beast... everything he thought he knew would change





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for the fanfic began with an RP made with a friend of mine. Some of the elements presented in this story do not follow everything in the movie. I hope you all will come to enjoy this story as much as I do! Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A curse that would forever change everything and a path to a new beginning

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away, but she warned him not to be deceived by appearances for beauty is found within. When he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. 

The prince, stunned by the appearance, begged for forgiveness, but it had been too late. 

The old woman had seen there was no love in his heart, transforming the young prince into a hideous and placed a powerful spell on the castle amongst all its residents. 

Ashamed of his terrible appearance, the beast concealed himself inside the manor and vanished from the public eye. The rose offered would bloom until his twenty-first year.

If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would remain a beast forever, without ever a chance of turning back. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?

* * *

Mycroft Holmes was the town oddity. He gave a soft sigh as he walked down the street, a book in hand as he headed down to the only bookstore of the entire place. A man his age, being only twenty something years old, shouldn't even be worrying about that sort of thing, as it was more expected that he become something more in business than reading of all things. The auburn-haired male didn't seem to pay attention to the whispers being spread, too interested in hoping to one day- if he played the cards right- leave this boring, provincial town. 

He had face buried into the pages. He knew he wasn't like anyone else, since he didn't normally publicly give emotions though that was only a facade, but he didn't care. If he got weird looks, let them. The young male turned to head on home once it was decided that he would be allowed to keep the book, the auburn haired youth groaning in frustration as he saw a certain someone. 

Cal, the town "hero".

"Well, well, look who it is," Cal purred. The man seemed to somehow think that Mycroft would be interested in joining him as part of the games, chuckling softly. 

Mycroft frowned. 

"I already told you I'm not looking for your company. Just leave me alone." 

Cal chuckled, "Come on! It'll be grand with you at my side-" 

Mycroft barked a small laugh before brushing off Cal and making it back home. He wasn't in the mood for anything else, the youth intending on taking care of his younger brother, having little idea the events that would soon change his life. 

* * *

The beast of the castle hadn't seen another human in ages, it felt like. He moved through the manor like it had been forgotten in time without a care of someone possibly seeing him, peering through the tattered curtains. 

That was how the manor had been deemed haunted. People would use his land as a dare to test their courage on Halloween's or late at night to show off their dates... the Help always got rid of them quickly, but a part of the beast silently urged them to brave past the snaring roses and snapping vines, to demand themselves to actually see the Haunted Manor. 

Only one man had ever gotten close enough for the beast to tell their gender and they were quickly chased away as the gargoyles sprang to life. He sighed and shook his head, chestnut brown locks hanging down in a brilliant mane around his curved ebony horns. A lion's tail swayed lazily behind him as he pulled the curtains back with one massive paw to watch yet another couple run off screaming from the living garden. 

He was padding through, tattered cloak hanging off his shoulders as a growl rumbled from his throat as he made his way into the wing. 

There, sitting in the center of a large balcony under a beautiful crystal dome... was a rose. A single rose floated under the clear surface, It was stunning, but it had started to wilt which worried the shadows that flickered the walls. 

The manor had once been a place full of life and music, beautiful parties every night nearly. The shadows enjoyed reminding the beast of things like this by dancing around the now abandoned ballroom with the very ghost of music just barely curling around his brain until he would have enough and roar, sending the visions away. 

They were always there, the Help. Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, and tea was always made whenever he wanted and always fresh. Lights were dimmed, but on. It was eerie to be alone but not be. To have the constant, silent reminder that the house was almost full and everyone there was waiting for a way to break this awful spell. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you've noticed, this does not entirely follow the events of either movies, since it was decided that there would be parts that could be fixed better or just altered to our liking. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> -dream


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's fate will change when Sherlock disappears and the rumors of the mansion come to light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I managed to type this up and finish chapter two, so... I hope you all come to enjoy this~ 
> 
> Please feel free to leave any comments. 
> 
> -dream

Mycroft didn’t know what to really expect from the following outcomes. The rumors of a haunted estate, a mansion, had always been there, but at first he didn’t care. It couldn’t be enchanted, that was beyond ridiculous. A thing for… fairytales, like the books he was so fond of reading, though the truth was even if he willed it to be so, it wasn’t possible. Mycroft decided he had to check it out for himself, and it would be one night where that would occur, changing his life for better or worse. 

 

He had been expecting his little brother, Sherlock, to be home, though all he got was a note stating: 

 

_ Gone out to investigate this manor. Don’t come after me. -SH’  _

 

Upon hearing what Sherlock had decided to do so, Mycroft startled and without fully knowing what to do, he made the executive call to track down his brother. The claimed estate. 

 

Dammit, Sherlock, he cursed in his mind as he raced forward on his horse, pulling it to a stop as soon as he arrived at the mansion. His eyes narrowed sharply and he went inside carefully, getting on alert. 

 

This night the Beast had grown tired of watching the people under him. Couples running scared as they had tried to make out in his beautiful garden only to be whipped away by the Crawling Rose vines. 

 

The Help was at it again. Music poured through the manor, overflowing like a forgotten stream as the Beast allowed himself to enjoy the memory of having hands for just a moment. 

 

He took position, pretending he was holding the dance partner of his choice as the music compelled him to swirl around the room, keeping his ghost tight. 

 

No more people would attempt to challenge themselves this late, so why should he keep watching? 

 

The Living Garden had willingly let Mycroft through, the vines just curiously slithering behind him as the air filled with an almost chill.

 

The white moonlight graced over the terrifying gargoyles that normally patrolled the front of the estate as they stood frozen, watching the tall male with pure malicious intent but never moving more than their eyes. 

 

When Mycroft stepped foot onto the first stair, the ghostly whisper of music stopped. Any light inside faded into nothing like it had been a dream. 

Inside the manor was no more welcoming than the outside. As soon as the doors were shut behind Mycroft, the phantom whispering started. 

 

“... who is that…?” 

 

“... through the garden…” 

 

“... no one gets through the garden…” 

 

“... will the Master eat them both?” 

 

Mycroft froze. 

 

“H-Hello?” He stammered, getting freaked by the whispering. An abandoned manor wouldn’t have any residents. No… he had to find Sherlock. 

 

“Sherlock!” Mycroft yelled. Nothing. He growled when he began heading up the stairs that led to the dungeon. It took a few more moments, but he finally found Sherlock, letting out a small audible gasp. 

 

Sherlock gaped. 

 

“Mycroft? What are you doing here?” He asked with a low hiss, confused beyond all wonder as to why his older brother would go out and look for him. 

 

Suddenly, like a flipping a switch, the shadows started to move from the walls. Swirling through Mycroft like a frigid dark smoke. A black snake that hissed warnings into his ears straight to his brain. 

 

“... the Master… won’t like you here…” 

 

“... not at all…” 

 

“...nooo…” 

 

Mycroft forced away the sound, focusing only on trying to free Sherlock. He was struggling, not really knowing how to get him out. 

 

“Mycroft, you need to go!” Sherlock shouted. If it had to come between himself and Mycroft, the younger preferred it that his older brother left. 

 

Mycroft shook his head. 

 

“Absolutely not!” He barked, the auburn haired male sighing as he watched the “dungeon”, forcing himself to concentrate. 

 

The whispers were growing more insistent. 

 

“Not safe…” 

 

“Not safe!” 

 

Suddenly, a snarl filled the echoed halls of the dungeon. Something practically threw Mycroft out of the way with a roar. 

 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” 

 

Mycroft startled, but held his ground. His eyes narrowed sharply and he stood firm, one hand gripped on the bars of the apparent dungeon. 

 

“You’ve got my brother prisoner. Let him go.” Mycroft hissed. He didn’t move, keeping his stance steady. 

 

The Beast paced through the shadows, growls spilling from his maw. 

 

“Then he shouldn’t have trespassed here!” 

 

“Let him go!” Mycroft barked again, eyes flashing furiously. 

 

The Beast rose from all fours. He hadn’t been exceedingly tall before the curse, but now he towered at nearly over seven feet. His fur shown a soft chestnut in the flickering firelight. 

 

“He’s my prisoner… leave, before I throw you in too.” 

 

Mycroft didn’t move, even with the shock that the other in the room wasn’t human. 

 

The Beast looked almost confused at the selflessness. 

 

“... You’d… take his place? It’s his own fault for being here… and you’d take his place?” 

 

“He’s my brother. Yes.” Mycroft hissed out. 

 

The Beast snarled down at him and suddenly moved past Mycroft. 

 

“Done.” 

 

He ripped the cell door open and grabbed Sherlock by the back of his shirt. 

 

“Mycroft, you idiot!” Sherlock barked as he was tossed out, startled more when Mycroft moved inside the cell and locked the door. 

 

“Go. Don’t worry about me.” Mycroft pleaded. 

 

Suddenly the shadows leapt on sherlock, dragging him from the dungeon. 

 

“Let the garden take him out. Block the entrance once he’s out!” 

 

He was near a rampage when a shadow curled around him, soft whispers floating through the air. 

 

“What…? No… HE’S A PRISONER!” 

 

The shadow seemed to be reasoning with the monster. 

 

Without warning, the Beast whipped around, the shadow skittering away. 

 

“... I’ll show you to your room…” 

 

Mycroft stared at him confused. “What?” He gaped, eyes widened slightly. He didn’t understand what was happening. 

 

Why would… this… this… beast give him a room? 

 

The Beast had only taken a few steps before he glared over his shoulder and snarled. 

 

“Do you WANT to stay in the dungeon?!”

 

Mycroft held his ground, hissing out a firm “no”. 

 

“Then hurry up and follow me!”

 

Mycroft scoffed as he followed. He didn’t care about his captor. Good lord, this was a pain. 

 

Light slowly swelled to life as they walked through the halls. The manor was stunning! Beautiful thick wallpapers covered the walls and a large grand staircase led down to the main level. 

 

“This way… the manor is your home now so you’re welcome to wander. Except the West Wing.” 

 

Mycroft paused suddenly. His curiosity got the better of him as he then asked daringly. 

 

“What’s in the West Wing?”

 

The Beast snarled as he turned around, the shadows that had been following him scattered. 

 

“It’s forbidden!” 

 

Mycroft half stepped back, but he didn’t speak for a moment. “... fine.” he finally answered, his voice a bit soft before he sighed. “Show me to my room then.” He spoke though his words were biting. 

 

The Beast turned around again and led Mycroft into the East Wing. The lights in the hallway were more than enough to give the young prisoner a good look at the Beast. It was a mix between a lion’s back legs and tail, a man’s body shape and eyes, a wolf’s thick coat and head, a lion’s mane, and a ram’s curved horns. 

 

He pushed open a door and the lights flickered on to show an absolutely stunning bedroom. 

 

“... if you need anything… the Help will attend to you.” 

 

Mycroft didn’t react. He wasn’t one for reacting on outward appearance, though the auburn haired male gave a soft swallow due to the fact he was a prisoner. A captive in a stranger’s home. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft begins to grow curious of the manor he's trapped in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the new chapter! I'm very happy with this one. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little piece~

Mycroft simply entered the bedroom, slightly in awe. He didn’t smile at the Beast, nor did he snap. He just added, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

A shadow curled around the Beast’s and he snarled. 

“... you will joined me for dinner.” 

“It’s not like I have a choice in the matter!” Mycroft snapped viciously. 

“No! Because it’s not a request!” He roared back just as the room door slammed shut. 

“Well, I’m not going!” Mycroft barked. He refused to go, not when he was a prisoner here. 

The resistance ate at him, but he snarled and stormed away, the shadows skittering after him. 

It was only after a few seconds that a stray peeled away from the bedroom wall. 

“... alright, Child?” 

Mycroft jumped, stepping back in alarm. 

“Wh- What…?” He asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He didn’t trust this. How could he?

The shadow swelled closer, a warm and comforting air oozing from it. 

“... calm, Child… calm. The Master… he’s not all that bad.” 

“Not all bad?” Mycroft laughed harshly. “I’m his prisoner and he kidnapped my brother! Who even are you?” He asked suddenly. 

There was a long silence before the whispering creeped into Mycroft’s brain again. 

“... I… was the Master’s nurse when he was a child…” 

Mycroft stopped for a moment. He contemplated that for a second, before he shook away the thought. 

“I’m leaving,” he stated out of nowhere. 

The shadow seemed to spike in surprise. 

“You… cannot! The Master… dinner!” 

“I won’t dine with the one who’s keeping my prisoner,” Mycroft answered coolly. “Why should I?” 

“... Master… has not seen humans in… years. He is… unsure how to handle company.” 

Mycroft didn’t even pretend to understand, but he nodded anyways. 

“It doesn’t change anything,” he spoke with a sharp tone, but curiosity didn’t get him very far. He pauses when he made it to window and glanced back at the door, eyes furrowing slightly. 

The shadow swirled around him, another warm wave embraced the prisoner. 

“... come… let’s dress you for dinner…” 

Mycroft scowled, but walked away from the window. He didn’t feel happy about this, let alone amused. 

The shadow whipped around the room to a jewel encrusted armoire. 

“... what shall we… dress you in…?” 

Mycroft looked confused, his eyes furrowing in thought. 

“What should I- should I go formal?” He asked.

The wardrobe doors burst as the shadow passes over them. 

“... something to… impress!” 

“I beg your pardon?” Mycroft blinked. Why in the world would he need to impress his captor? 

The shadow stopped moving for a second before the hangers ceased. 

“... the… best armor… is dressing confidently. Mustn’t be… afraid, Child.” 

The Beast was terrifying to look at, but on the inside… he was still the same once abandoned child. He had been cursed and forced to live alone as just a teenager… the poor thing was still afraid of thunder. 

“... please… give Master a chance.” 

Mycroft gave a sharp inhale.  
“Fine. Will it make a difference?” 

“It will… trust me, Child.” A lovely black, older suit was lifted from the armoire. “... this one… you’ll look… perfect.” 

Mycroft sighed as he just allowed it to happen. He still wasn’t pleased about this, given that it wasn’t exactly his own free will, but he was far too interested in knowing what was happening and why he had to impress his captor. 

After a few alterations to the suit, he looked stunning, like he truly belonged in the manor. It was soon after that that another member of the Help oozed in from under the door. 

“... dinner… is served…” 

Mycroft decided to just follow, taking into notice everything that he saw. Despite his reluctance to interact with the Beast, the estate constantly grabbed his attention, the need to know and understand only pulling at him more. 

The decor was stunning, but… dark. Gothic almost, but it clashed with the colors of the wall, almost like they had been morphed to match the Beast’s fate. 

Mycroft tilted his head, studying every sign. It was all so intriguing. He finally got led into what was once a kitchen filled with guests and tugged at the collar briefly before letting go. He wasn’t about to appear nervous in front of the one holding him here. 

The Beast was sitting up in his chair like how one would expect a dog to do so. His paws were up on the seat and his cloak was hanging loosely around him. 

The shadow brushed over Mycroft’s shoulder. 

 

“Sit, Child… never fear…” 

Mycroft hesitantly but surely sat down on the opposite end of the table and watched the Beast warily. He held his gaze, refusing to show if he was nervous or even afraid. 

The Beast, otherwise known as Greg, glared at him from across the table until a shadow seemed to swat at the back of his head, making him snarl as he looked back at it. 

“... do you enjoy your room?” 

Mycroft bit back a scowl and forced himself to smile pleasantly. 

“It’s… different,” he ended up saying because he didn’t know what else to say.  
The shadows swept into the room, swirling around the table until suddenly a stunning feast appeared. Silver domes covered magnificent smelling dishes, enough to make a stomach growl with a single sniff. 

“... a lot is done differently around here.” 

Mycroft felt his mouth water almost instinctively before he glanced up at Greg, holding the gaze for a moment before looking back down at his plate. 

“... help yourself. It’s much better than what I was planning to feed your brother.” 

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, really?” He asked sharply. 

“Hm? Of course. The Help suggested I treat you well…” 

Mycroft resisted the urge to snap, before he suddenly nodded. 

“Yes, they’ve been treated me well.” He answered curtly. 

Greg wrinkled his nose with a huff. 

“They’ve only been following my orders. Watch your tone.” 

Mycroft growled lowly before glancing at the intricate silverware. He glanced back at Greg, then shifted awkwardly. 

Greg snarled as he picked up a chunk of meat, ripping off a piece with his teeth. 

“Eat.” 

“Don’t you know how to act appropriately?” Mycroft snapped. 

Greg roared and slammed his paw on the table, shaking everything on it. 

“SHUT UP!” 

Mycroft crossed his arms as he carefully grabbed his fork and ate in a better manner, keeping his gaze on Greg as if to challenge him, though he didn’t say anything. 

Greg snarled, grabbing his meat again, ripping off chunks and and wolfing them down. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes, ignoring Greg. He just continued eating, trying not to smirk or say anything about the ridiculousness of the other.  
The Beast glared across the table at Mycroft and suddenly dropping his meat, the bone clattering on the plate. 

“I saw that…” 

“Yes, I noticed,” Mycroft refused to back down. “You wouldn’t want to hurt a guest, would you?” He challenged again.

It took Greg barely a few seconds to fly into a rage. He gripped the edge of the table and threw it to the side with a roar. The silverware clattering and china shattering to the floor. 

Mycroft jumped back as he moved away from the table, the auburn haired male’s eyes widening in alarm. He swallowed thickly before growling, “maybe I should go back to my room. I’m not hungry.” 

Greg snarled and rushed him, looking over his prisoner as he hissed. 

“Oh? Leaving? Have you gotten your fill of staring at the Beast?! Gawking and judging like you’re so bloody perfect?!” 

“Oh, frankly no. I don’t care much what you look like, but you are quite a rude host and if you clearly don’t want me saying as much as a word, then I should just go.” Mycroft retorted back. 

“Well, maybe if you had something worth saying!” 

“If it’s respect you want, you need to earn it!” Mycroft barked right back, eyes flashing in annoyance. 

“I want you to stop being such a prat! I haven’t been able to pick up a fork and knife in years!” 

The Help was already cleaning up the mess from Greg’s tantrum. He stared down at Mycroft, a small rumble building in his chest. 

“... I don’t need your help…” 

“Fine,” Mycroft huffed. 

Greg snarled at Mycroft as a new feast was brought out. 

“I’m done here. Take it away.” 

Mycroft hissed, “gladly.” 

Without saying another word, the young Holmes stalked off, heading back to his room. Out of nowhere, he turned in another direction and walked towards a certain forbidden area. 

Greg hadn’t noticed. He’d been too busy being scolded by a few of the more brave members of the Help. 

Mycroft’s room attendant, however, did notice and flitted after him. 

“... Forbidden!” 

Mycroft shook his head as he paused for a moment and then continued, more determined than before. He needed answers. 

The shadow swirled around him aggressively, but without a physical form it was useless to stop him.

“... stop! It is… forbidden!” 

Mycroft just walked past the shadow, refusing to stop for even a moment. He took off towards the west wing, not having any idea what to expect. 

Unlike the rest of the manor, the deeper Mycroft moved into the wing, the more damaged it got. Deep claws were gouged out of the wall and the master bedroom doors were hanging off the hinges. 

Mycroft frowned briefly, but he kept going. He had to get his answers and while it was unnerving, he didn’t find it in himself to care. 

Inside, the master bedroom was the worst. The beautiful four canopy bed had been torn to shreds to make a large nest in the farthest corner. The only thing that was as pristine as snow was the softly glowing rose in the middle of the balcony. 

Mycroft gasped softly as he felt himself immediately drawn to the rose and walked over to it, watching the petals. It was almost like… magic, actual magic. 

It glistened and seemed to turn towards him, willing him closer like a sweet, romantic song. 

Mycroft moved his hand towards the rose and gave a slight tilt of his head. What was with the flower? What significance did it hold? 

Only when Mycroft was mere centimeters away did the balcony doors crash open. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ratings of this fanfic will change next chapter, due to certain events that are going to happen.
> 
> It won't be entirely bad, but it may make some people uncomfortable. Either way, I hope you will still come to appreciate this story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft runs off as a result of a rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for what is depicted in this chapter. Good luck, my dear readers. 
> 
> -dream

Mycroft gave a startled jump, breaking out of his thoughts and whirled around. 

 

“I was- I was… trying to-” his words died in his throat. “I was seeing the rose.” He finished. 

 

Greg snatched the crystal dome and slammed it down over the rose, inspecting his most prized possession as if he was checking for damage before he slowly turned to Mycroft. 

 

“Do you… have ANY IDEA WHAT YOU COULD HAVE DONE?!” 

 

Mycroft stumbled back, suddenly terrified. 

 

“I- n… no!” He squeaked. 

 

“GET OUT!” The Beast swung his paw and knocked an end table against the far wall. Wood splintered in all directions as he snapped an oak clothing rack with another swipe. “GET OUT!” 

 

Mycroft scrambled outside, bolting down the stairs and heading away. He couldn’t stay here, not after this. 

 

The Help swirled around him. 

 

“Stop! Please stop!” 

 

“He doesn’t want me here!” Mycroft shouted. “Why do I even bother?!” 

 

“Please! The Master needs you! We all do!” 

 

Mycroft was already running out the door and mounting his horse, speeding away. 

 

Greg had finally calmed down when the Help swarmed him, practically shouting about what had happened. 

 

Mycroft was out somewhere in the forest to return home. He slowed down again, sighing and panting. Focus. Follow the… path. In his haste to return to Sherlock, he hadn’t really noticed where he was going, not knowing how to get back. 

 

The path was gone. The Garden had let Mycroft through the barriers and into a strange street in the middle of the night. 

 

The street-lights flickered above them as a group of clearly intoxicated young men came around the corner. 

 

“Oi… what’s this then?”

 

Mycroft gasped as he made the horse he was riding back up, the auburn haired male looking completely out of place with his elegant suit. He frowned, trying to soothe his stallion since it began to buck its head slightly. 

 

One of the men approached and gripped the horse’s reins. 

 

“Well, well… you sitting here lookin all pretty for us?” 

 

Mycroft felt himself tense up, eyes narrowed. 

 

“Let go,” he hissed, his heart racing a bit. “I’m not doing anything for you.” 

 

“Not yet you aren’t.” The words came out as a hiss as he pulled the reins closer. 

 

“Let go of me!” Mycroft panicked, gripping the reins and trying to pull them towards him. 

 

The man jerked the reins back when someone else touched Mycroft’s leg. 

 

“Why don’t you come down from there?” 

 

Mycroft flinched. 

 

“Don’t touch me,” he spat. “Get away from me!” 

 

The same man grabbed Mycroft’s wrists. 

 

“We’re not exactly asking!” 

 

“Let me go!” Mycroft began struggling, his shouts louder than before. 

 

Mycroft’s other wrist was grabbed as one of the men jerked him off his horse.  

 

“Such a feisty one.” 

 

“HELP!” He hollered at the top of his lungs, lashing out as he tried to kick at one of his attackers. “Get off of me!” 

 

Suddenly, something dropped with a solid thump behind them and one of the men was jerked into a dark alley with a scream. The other two men stopped and stared at the ink black. 

 

“... Frank? Mate?”  

 

Mycroft was shaking like a leaf, the male giving a low sort of growl as he wrenched back to get loose. What was that?

 

A pair of haunting yellow eyes peered out from the dark as the Beast crawled out on all fours. He snarled and snapped his jaws as the two remaining men pulled Mycroft back with them. 

 

“W-What the hell is that?!” 

 

Mycroft couldn’t help but smirk as he used that to his advantage. He slammed his foot down on one of the men and hoped it would be enough to be released. He refused to go down without a fight, despite the fact he was still scared of his wits. 

 

Greg watched this and smiled until he saw the other man raise his hand as if about to hit Mycroft. He roared and charged him, tackling the man off his feet with a scream. 

 

Mycroft stumbled away, growling loudly. 

 

“Wait, no, stop!” He barked loudly, trying to aid the beast out of nowhere. The beast… had saved his life. “We need to get out of here!” 

 

The man stared at him and motioned to his friend who was at the moment trying not to get mauled. 

 

“We need to help!” 

 

The man rolled his eyes and pulled out a pistol. 

 

“I’ll stop it myself!” 

 

Mycroft growled. 

 

“No! Stop!” He yelled, pushing the man away. 

 

As he shoved the man, the gun discharged, the bullet sinking into Greg’s side. He roared and tossed his head back and the two men took off running. 

 

“BEAST!” Mycroft suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs as he turned to Greg. He pressed two hands against the bullet wound, blood staining his palms. “It’s okay. I got you.” 

 

Greg clawed at the ground and hissed in pain. 

 

“S-SHITE!” 

 

Mycroft grunted as he tried his best to pick up Greg. 

 

“You need to lean on me,” he muttered. “I’m going to take you on the horse and take you back to the manor. I can heal you that way.” 

 

Greg growled weakly as he leaned on Mycroft. His paws felt heavy as blood oozed out of him. 

 

Mycroft managed to guide Greg towards the horse and then slapped the reins, sending them off towards the manor. 

 

The Garden practically swallowed them back into the manor’s yard as they came charging up the street. Greg slumped against Mycroft, soft growls slipping out. 

  
  



End file.
